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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22953457">Come What May</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/annieapple24/pseuds/annieapple24'>annieapple24</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Fix-It of Sorts, Found Family, Gen, M/M, Never Actually Decided Which, Richie Tozier-centric, Richie just wants to be loved, Time Travel/Parallel Universe Travel, just so much angst, spoiler alert: he is, trigger warnings in the notes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 11:55:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>19,541</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22953457</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/annieapple24/pseuds/annieapple24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After a drunken decision to fly back to Maine, Richie accidentally gets a second chance at everything. A chance to save Stan and Eddie. A chance for everyone to get their happily ever after. Except Richie, but that's worth it for the people he loves most, right?</p>
<p>IT HAS A HAPPY ENDING I SWEAR. Richie is angsty and the Losers just want to get it through Richie's thick skull that he is loved.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>165</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Come What May</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a very strange idea I never actually planned to write down and then took MONTHS to finish. I'm hoping it makes sense and someone might actually enjoy the idea too. I mean, I'm probably projecting onto Richie more than a little in this. Oops.</p>
<p>Trigger Warnings for vomiting, homophobia, self-harm references, suicide, some violence. NOTE the Major Character Death Warning is not limited to canon deaths. BUT THERE IS A HAPPY ENDING I PROMISE. Please let me know if you notice anything else that should be on this list. I don't usually write stuff this angsty and dark lol.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first thing Richie noticed was that he was cold. He could feel it before he had even opened his eyes, even as he could see the rays of sun shining through his eyelids.</p>
<p>There was water around him, he realized next. He was cold because he was half submerged in chilly water, even as the sun seemed to beat down on him hotly. Richie wondered if he had manged to fall asleep in his pool. Except it wasn’t a ridiculous unicorn pool floaty he was lying on. He could feel gritty rocks under his fingertips, his back was aching almost as badly as his head. </p>
<p>Carefully, oh so carefully, Richie rolled over, feeling his stomach roll over unpleasantly with him. Finally, with his face angled away from the sun, Richie opened his eyes.</p>
<p>Everything was green. Trees towered over him, plants growing everywhere, climbing out all the way to where Richie was lying on a riverbank. Fuck, he was too hungover to deal with whatever the fuck was happening.</p>
<p>He couldn’t remember anything. How the fuck did he manage to get himself in the middle of nowhere? Richie drank until he blacked out most nights anymore, but never had he woken up anywhere outside his house. He hadn’t even really left his house for weeks, except on a few occasions one of the Losers, usually Bill now that he and Audra were settled again in L.A., dragged him out. Richie preferred shutting himself away, living on whatever booze he could get delivered with pop tarts and pizza rolls with his postmates app.</p>
<p>Except that wasn’t true, was it. He had left. The memories came to Richie slowly, but no less painfully, as his head throbbed away. He struggled to sit up without getting sick, gagging a bit, but trying to swallow back the reflex as best he could. Richie had bought plane tickets on a drunken whim, made a halfhearted attempt at packing a bag like an adult, and took a Lyft to LAX.</p>
<p>Derry. Richie was in Derry.</p>
<p>With this realization, Richie looked around and confirmed he was, in fact, back in hell, somehow washed up on a random bank of the Kenduskeag. His heart sank when he realized how close he was to the sewer opening, the one Bill had taken them to when they were young and stupid. The one where Ben had found them, and joined them. It was just upstream, close enough he might’ve gotten washed out of it and ended up getting snagged against the rocks here.</p>
<p>Richie couldn’t fight it any longer. He moved to his hands and knees, choking as he vomited onto the sand. There wasn’t much, just bile and dirty sewer water he must’ve accidentally swallowed at some point. </p>
<p>He could remember walking into the sewer, older now but no less stupid. But that hadn’t been his first stop, had it?</p>
<p>Richie had gone straight to the ruins of the Neibolt house from the airport, in some expensive rental car Richie probably should not have been driving so hungover. He had gone to the ruins, and walked around them for hours, looking for any weak spots, any holes to worm himself into and climb his way down. And when he found nothing, he sat and stared at the pile of rubble for another hour, ignoring the tears falling down his cheeks.</p>
<p>He hadn’t been drunk, though. Richie had taken care to only drink water and orange juice on the plane, hadn’t stopped anywhere on the drive. And when he realized where to go next after the house, he didn’t stop as he walked all the way down to the barrens.</p>
<p>There was a moment, however, when passing by the kissing bridge, when Richie had wished he was drunk. That he had stopped for some liquid courage, some whiskey to drown out the little voice in his head telling him that going down into the sewers alone and unprepared was a terrible idea. Richie kept his eyes closed as he walked by the carving he knew was staring at him. He had gone back after it all happened, before the others had convinced him to go back to LA, and recarved the initials he had made in the old wood as a teenager. </p>
<p>It was the last time Richie could remember feeling like things might somehow end up okay.</p>
<p>How had the rest gone down? Richie could remember wandering around until he found the sewer entrance, that same one he could see in the distance now if he turned his head enough. Could remember taking a deep breath before walking in, going deeper and deeper, following his nose and the rank smell until all the light was gone and Richie pulled out his phone to use as a flashlight. </p>
<p>What had happened after that?</p>
<p>The nausea hadn’t cleared completely, but Richie figured he was safe enough to stand. If he could make it back to Neibolt, he could grab his bag from the rental car and rent a room at one of the town’s inns long enough to shower and change clothes. Maybe he could stop for a bottle of aspirin on the way. Keene’s pharmacy, where Eddie had encountered the leper again, where he had managed to get his hands around Its throat long enough to choke It. Maybe Eddie could’ve killed It.</p>
<p>Nope. Richie didn’t need aspirin that badly.</p>
<p>Climbing his way out of the barrens was much more difficult, now that he had a hangover from Derry hell. Why did he even have a hangover anyway if he hadn’t had a drink in at least 48 hours? Must’ve been withdrawal, then. Christ, Richie hadn’t had to deal with withdrawal in over a decade, and even then he was able to check himself in to a nicer hospital and come down easily.</p>
<p>It felt like hours, but Richie eventually made it to Neibolt street. He was tired enough, he almost missed it at first, more focused on the fact that his rental car wasn’t where he parked it, hoping it hadn’t gotten towed. </p>
<p>The fucking house was still there.</p>
<p>Still as menacing and creepifying as his nightmares, the Neibolt house stood in the same spot, as if none of it had happened. Richie could feel It, like something sinister behind him, breathing down his neck. His blood turned cold, and he could already feel his feet moving without his permission, stepping back, moving away as quickly as he could. </p>
<p>It wasn’t possible. They had killed It. They had made sure of it this time. Richie could still remember the sickening squish when they had crushed Its heart in their hands. The deadlights had gone out, the cavern had collapsed (with Eddie inside) and It was dead for good. </p>
<p>And yet the house loomed, mocking him, mocking Eddie’s sacrifice, all of their sacrifices. And there, out of the corner of his eye, Richie saw movement from under the porch, something huge and grinning climbing its way out from under the house.</p>
<p>Richie didn’t stay to find out what shape It would take this time.</p>
<p>There was nothing but panic in Richie’s mind, nothing but the urge to get away, knowing what would come if he hesitated for a moment. He ran as fast as his aching body would allow, blindly, not paying attention to where he was going or who he ran past. It wasn’t until he had thrown himself through the library doors, putting his back to the wall once inside and trying to catch his breath, that Richie realized what he had done.</p>
<p>There were people staring at him, probably wondering what drugs he was on to be acting so strangely. Richie definitely saw a young mother wrap her arms around her daughter, pulling her away from Richie towards the back entrance. Which, fair.</p>
<p>“Richie?”</p>
<p>There, standing across the room with the most bewildered look on his face Richie had ever seen in his life, was Mike Hanlon. The same Mike Hanlon who, last Richie checked, vowed never to set foot in Derry again and had fucked off to roam around the country, checking in every few days to let them know he hadn’t been eaten by alligators in Florida or died of heat stroke in New Mexico. </p>
<p>There was no way Mike could be there, staring at Richie like he was two seconds away from morphing into a killer clown. Richie hadn’t told any of them he was coming. And he didn’t think he had gotten any concerned phone calls demanding to know where he was and if he was okay before he passed out in and got washed out of a fucking sewer.</p>
<p>The fucking clown, then, somehow not dead, somehow having gotten to the library before Richie and pretending to be Mike just to fuck with him. Except that didn’t make sense. The clown had figured out from one glance into Richie’s pathetic thirteen year old mind that the best way to get to him was using Eddie. Pretending to be Mike to lure Richie in didn’t make sense.  </p>
<p>“Mike?” Richie said hesitantly, his voice cracking a little.</p>
<p>Mike, however, was still frozen in shock staring at Richie. A woman, probably Mike’s assistant librarian and now head librarian, touched Mike gently on the shoulder, causing him to finally look away from Richie and jump about a foot into the air. </p>
<p>Well, what else did Richie have to lose? Slowly, Richie approached the desk, splaying his hands out on the counter as he leaned forward with a smile that felt just a touch too forced. “Fancy seeing you here, Mikey. What’s a town like you doing in a girl like this?” Terrible even for you, Trashmouth.</p>
<p>“Richie,” Mike repeated. “What the hell are you doing here?”</p>
<p>Richie snorted humorlessly. “That’s a no-no word, Michael. Am I really that awful of company? When did you even get back to Derry?”</p>
<p>Mike ignored him, though, as if Richie hadn’t even spoken. “I didn’t call you yet. I didn’t call any of you yet. I was waiting…”</p>
<p>“You were gonna call? Is something going on?”</p>
<p>“Maybe we should go to my place and talk. In private,” Mike suggested.</p>
<p>Richie ran a hand through his hair. His head was still throbbing, he was achy and tired, and needed a drink, water or booze, he didn’t care much either way at the moment. “Jesus, I thought you sold that fucking place. Whatever, let’s go. Please, god, tell me you have some alcohol stashed away. Or fuck, maybe some of that good Shokopiwah kush if you’ve still got some.”</p>
<p>He turned to head towards the back of the library, where he knew a dark and kinda dusty staircase lead up to Mike’s tiny, crackpot attic apartment. Richie made sure to take a wide berth around the spot Henry Bowers’s body had lain after Richie killed him, trying to block out that particular memory. Mike follow tentatively, a confused look on his face.</p>
<p>“How did you know I lived up here?” Mike asked as they stomped up the stairs. Richie had to nearly break his neck to dodge the low overhang at the top, and he wondered how the fuck Mike did that several times a day considering he was taller than Richie.</p>
<p>The place was messy, just like Richie pictured, with books and papers piled on every available surface, and an honest to god corkboard with strings connecting pictures and printed texts with crazy highlights like a fucking It’s Always Sunny meme. </p>
<p>“How could I forget the story of you luring Bill up here like a creepy frat boy luring a freshman coed at her first party? Not that I blame you, really. Bill could stand to chillax a bit sometimes.”</p>
<p>This time, Mike really did look at Richie like he was insane. “What the fuck are you talking about?”</p>
<p>Richie scoffed, starting to get a little pissed off. Mike was the one who shouldn’t be there, and apparently the fucking monster Eddie and Stan sacrificed their lives to kill wasn’t even fucking dead. Why was Mike being so obtuse?</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, did you forget that one time you called us all and dumped three decades of trauma on us, forced us to kill a space demon, and then fucked off to Niagara Falls before we could even have a fucking funeral for-” Richie cut himself off, not willing to let himself go down that road.</p>
<p>But as he cut himself off Richie realized what was happening. And Mike must’ve realized something similar, because Richie could see him not so subtly scrabbling for the letter opener sitting on the desk behind him. Not that Richie cared much about that when Mike said…</p>
<p>“I didn’t call you. I was waiting until I was sure. I didn’t call any of you.”</p>
<p>“What the fuck,” was all Richie could say before spinning around and rushing to the built in kitchen to dry heave over the sink.</p>
<p>There was the soft sound of footsteps behind him. Mike, who probably hadn’t put down the letter opener, Richie had to be careful not to make any sudden moves, was coming to check on him. </p>
<p>It didn’t make any sense. Unless Richie had died in that fucking sewer and this was some fucked up realm of hell where he would be forced to relive his worst nightmare over and over again with the added bonus of a bitch of a hangover.</p>
<p>“Okay, now I really need a drink,” Richie said panting, almost wishing he had something in his stomach to throw up just to ease the nausea. “Do you mind if I…?” he asked, gesturing to one of the glasses in the dishrack.</p>
<p>The water was cool and refreshing, even if it made his stomach cramp a little. He drank as slowly as he could, refilling the glass again when he finished. Mike just stood watching him, back to being too confused to be on attack mode. The letter opener hung loosely in his hand.</p>
<p>“Sorry, Mikey, it’s been a weird fucking morning.”</p>
<p>“You’re telling me,” Mike responded.</p>
<p>They ended up sitting down at Mike’s table, Richie politely ignoring the dusty papers that prevented them from having any clean space to rest their arms . He also ignored the fucking Shokopiwah artifact thing he knew was on the table somewhere behind him, because fuck that.</p>
<p>“So… what are you doing here, Richie?” Mike ended up asking after a long moment of silence.</p>
<p>Richie sighed. “I honestly don’t know, man. I haven’t figured that out myself yet.” He took off his glasses and rubbed tiredly at his eyes. Maybe Mike would have some aspirin or something. “It might be easier if you started. Could answer some of my questions, I guess.”</p>
<p>“If I started?”</p>
<p>“You mentioned you were going to call us. All of us. What were you going to say?” Richie knew he was putting Mike on the spot, but he had to know. </p>
<p>Mike cleared his throat, looking a bit nervous. But after a moment he took a deep breath and steeled himself, looking resolute as he started to speak.</p>
<p>“There’s been… things happening in Derry. Bad things. Killings, mostly of kids. And I wanted to wait until I knew for sure, but… It’s back. It’s back, and It’s killing again.” Mike paused a moment to take a shuddering breath. “And we made a promise, twenty-seven years ago. So I… I have to bring everyone back. So we can stop It.”</p>
<p>The silence was deafening. It took several moments before Mike looked at Richie again, his face solemn, but quickly shifting back to confusion at Richie’s lack of reaction.</p>
<p>“You knew all that already, didn’t you? How? I thought everyone forgot. Everyone except me.”</p>
<p>Richie’s heart ached a bit at the sadness in Mike’s voice. He couldn’t imagine how awful it would be to get stuck in Derry alone for thirty years. Richie probably would’ve offed himself after a year.</p>
<p>“It’s a bit more complicated than that. I forgot too, I just…” That’s not me, not anymore. If there’s a Richie in LA right now, it was one who had no memories, just a few popular comedy shows, a nice car, and a beach house he could never admit to himself always felt too big and empty for one person.</p>
<p>Richie shook his head, dispelling unhelpful thoughts. “First things first. What’s the date?”</p>
<p>“The… the date?” </p>
<p>“Yeah, Mike. You’re a librarian, you should know what day it is. Actually, wait, no,” Richie paused, thinking as hard as his poor, hungover, probably shrivelled husk of a drug-and-booze-addled brain would allow. He had no idea what day it was when it all went down. But he did know the stupid fucking carnival had started the same night that kid was gay bashed and ended up right down the demon clown’s gullet. “When does that stupid fucking Canal Days thing or whatever open?”</p>
<p>That question confused Mike even more, though that was kinda fair. “It um… it opens tonight at six. They had to push it back a day because of some rain during set up.”</p>
<p>Fuck.</p>
<p>Whatever-his-name-was would die at the carnival that night. And Mike would go and see the words on the bridge, painted in the kid’s blood, and he would go back to his shitty attic room and call them all, one after another. </p>
<p>Fuck, Mike would call Stan and Stan would wind up dead in a fucking bathtub. His poor wife would find him with his wrists slashed. And then Bev would call and force her to tell a stranger what had happened. And then they would go down into the fucking cavern where Eddie would die in Richie’s arms.</p>
<p>Eddie.</p>
<p>“Why does that matter?” Mike asked, cautious. He seemed to be more believing now that he knew it was Richie. But Richie knew he was still acting very oddly. He still didn’t really know what was happening, how was he going to explain to Mike?</p>
<p>Sweeping his arms out in a wide gesture that almost knocked over what appeared to be a pile of print outs on mass murders, Richie put on his best fake grin. “Big news, Mikey. I’m from the fucking future.”</p>
<p>Mike didn’t respond, just looked at Richie like he was crazy again. </p>
<p>“Or possibly an alternate timeline. Maybe a parallel universe. I’m still working on that one. But either way, I’m here. I know what happens next.” Richie paused, hoping it would pass to Mike as dramatic effect instead of a hopeless sense of dread. “And most importantly, I know how to kill the fucking clown.”</p>
<p>Then, suddenly, as if Richie had finally spoken the magic words to unlock the memory, Richie remembered. It wasn’t like when Mike called him, or when he walked into the chinese restaurant and saw everyone again for the first time in years. It was, thankfully, more normal. Like remembering a flash of something you had done the night before while almost black out drunk. </p>
<p>Richie remembered trudging through the sewer, the water just as disgusting as the first times, sometimes as high as his waist, sometimes fighting to keep his face out of it as the tunnels thinned and he was forced to crawl one hand struggling to stay above his head as the flashlight on his phone flickered through the water. He remembered going so deep that he actually found it, what had obviously been an entrance to That Place, because it was now ruined. Fallen into rubble that Richie could dig at for the rest of his life and never make it through. </p>
<p>He remembered realizing that there really was no way back, no way out. That Eddie’s body, if there was even a body left with the way the cavern had been destroying itself like every natural disaster combined into one, would never leave. </p>
<p>Richie remembered crying, screaming, just like he had as Bill dragged him away from Eddie, the way he had the first time he walked into his own house and felt how truly empty it was. He screamed at the clown, at the fucking clown that had stolen his entire life from him, and just when he thought for a moment he had a chance at taking it back, had ripped it away from him again.</p>
<p>“Fuck you. You should’ve taken me instead. Not them. Not him. Fucking kill me. Kill me right fucking now and bring them back. Kill me before I kill myself you fucking coward!”</p>
<p>And then everything went dark, his phone battery finally giving up or his body finally doing the same. Then waking up in the river.</p>
<p>Mike had said something during this realization, but Richie didn’t hear him. He probably didn’t believe Richie, and that was alright. If the situation was reversed, Richie wouldn’t believe him either.</p>
<p>Richie didn’t figure he could tell him, though, that Stan and Eddie were supposed to die, and moreso, that Richie knew what he had to do to save them. If it worked. It would. It would.</p>
<p>“You probably don’t believe me,” Richie told Mike, “But that fucker is going to kill someone else tonight. And that’s what convinces you to finally call us.”</p>
<p>“Fuck, Richie,” Mike sighed, rubbing his arm the way he used to do as a kid. “What the fuck is happening?”</p>
<p>“Who the fuck knows. But we know what happens, so we can stop It and all the bad shit that’s about to happen.”</p>
<p>“Bad bad?”</p>
<p>“My worst fucking nightmare,” Richie whispered. Thankfully, Mike didn’t press for more. Richie wouldn’t have been able to say anything else if he had.</p>
<p>“So, what do we have to do?” For someone who had only just put down a weapon, ready to defend himself if Richie turned out to be a killer clown, it didn’t take much for Richie to convince him.</p>
<p>Richie thought for a moment, trying to form a plan. “First, I need to drink some water, take some painkillers, maybe get in a quick nap. Then, we need to try to go save that kid. After that, you get to make some calls.”</p>
<p>Mike sighed and let out half of a chuckle. “I still have to call them all by myself?”</p>
<p>“Everyone but Stan. I’ll take care of him.” Richie thought for another moment. “Shit, I need to borrow a computer and try to find a last minute flight to Atlanta. I hope that my cards still work.” Richie added, patting his still damp back pocket to feel his wallet. </p>
<p>“Oh, um, alright,” Mike agreed after a moment of staring with his mouth slightly open. </p>
<p>Was there anything else they needed to do? “Oh, and whatever you do, don’t make reservations at that fucking Chinese restaurant. I can’t deal with that shit again.”</p>
<p>“What shit? Actually, never mind. I can guess.”</p>
<p>‘You really cant,’ Richie thought, but didn’t say it out loud.</p>
<p>….</p>
<p>Things went pretty smoothly for a few hours. Mike was able to get Richie some Tylenol and let him borrow his laptop to look at red eye flights to Atlanta. It would take longer for Richie to get to Stan than he would prefer, but it was faster than driving. If Stan was cooperative enough, they could get there about the same time as the other Losers (but Richie didn’t have much hope of that). </p>
<p>Mike left Richie alone to nap on his couch for a bit, trusting him enough to run downstairs and talk to his still-just-assistant librarian about taking over some of his duties while he took care of some personal matters. Because sometimes killing a demon clown from space with your childhood best friends could be something so personal.</p>
<p>After his nap, Richie felt a little better. But certainly not ‘save some poor kid and his boyfriend from getting eaten by a clown’ better. Mike at least, because he was still an absolute sweetheart even if he was a bit crazy at the moment, let Richie borrow some dry clothes and shower off the sewer water before his nap, which helped too.</p>
<p>They went out a little before the carnival was supposed to open, figuring they could sit by the bridge and maybe grab some food while they waited. Richie had no idea what time the attack would happen, only where and how. So the waiting game it was.</p>
<p>The carnival brought back memories, though Richie couldn’t tell if that was good or bad. Richie had loved Canal Days, especially for the carnival. It gave him an excuse to be loud, to be annoying, and most importantly, to get into competitive arguments with Eddie as they played stupid games. </p>
<p>They had never gotten to go all together, the whole Losers Club. It had just been him, Eddie, Bill, and Stan back then. And after that summer, when they were too busy trying not to get murdered to go to any carnivals, they all started leaving one by one and never got to go as a big group.</p>
<p>But even so, Richie had still loved it. He would convince his dad to give him extra money for the occasion, and between the four of them, they could usually pool enough together to go absolutely wild for a few days. Despite the warnings from Mrs. Kaspbrak, Richie could always convince Eddie to sample everything fatty, sweet, and deep fried, sharing Richie’s funnel cake and stealing half of Richie’s popcorn. They rode the big kid rides until Stan or Richie got sick, and competed to see who could win the most games and get the best prizes.</p>
<p>Richie remembered Eddie could never win at balloon darts, and he hated that Richie did. He would yell when Richie popped his three balloons in a row, and couldn’t even pop one himself. But then he always softened when Richie gave him the prize. Stan was best at the duck game, always getting lucky and choosing the best ones. Bill was surprisingly good at throwing ping pong balls into the fishbowls, but they had to stop going to that one the first time Eddie noticed a dead fish in one of the bowls and they had to usher him away, fighting back tears and sucking on his inhaler. He remembered Eddie always won the water shooting game, until the time Richie kicked him in the shin repeatedly, trying to distract him, until Eddie got so pissed off he turned the water pistol on Richie and gotten them both in trouble. </p>
<p>Now, Richie could see not much had changed. The rides and food trucks were shiny new and modern, the food had gotten impossibly fattier and unhealthier. But for the most part, exactly the same. It was easy enough to grab a couple corn dogs and find a bench to sit out by the bridge, away from the crowd and most of the noise. </p>
<p>“It’s a bit eerie, isn’t it?” Mike asked. </p>
<p>Richie knew what he meant. The carnival ride music, the laughing children, the loud ringing of bells when someone won a prize from a game, all in the near distance while the two of them sat in the cool twilight waiting for a monster. </p>
<p>Or maybe Mike meant the situation itself. A Richie from the future, somber and jokeless, predicting nightmares and probably looking like a junkie suffering withdrawal symptoms (mostly because he kind of was) every time he pretended to grin at his friend.</p>
<p>Poor Mike really had no idea what he had gotten himself into. Then again, none of them ever had.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry we left you, Mikey,” Richie whispered instead of sharing any of his melancholy thoughts. Better to focus on Mike’s trauma. “I know it’s been rough being the only one here. The only one to remember.”</p>
<p>Mike stayed silent for a moment, blinking more than normal. “It’s not your fault. I think it was part of the magic. We couldn’t all stay. It just happened to be me. It was always supposed to be me.”</p>
<p>“Our Watcher,” Richie joked. Except it wasn’t a joke. “Always taking care of us. Even when we were kids, it was always you who kept one eye open, just in case, even when we were safe.”</p>
<p>“Nah, that’s not right. I may be the Watcher, but you were the one who took care of us when we really needed it. You were just good at hiding it.”</p>
<p>Richie’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know if the others noticed, but I did. You made jokes all the time, but you especially did it when one of us was upset and you wanted us to smile. After a run-in with Bowers or something happened with our parents, you would see that we were hurting, and you wouldn’t stop running your trash mouth until you got us to smile again. You were the one to help pick us up when we got knocked down. And those nights when being the only one in this goddamn place got so hard I… I thought about taking the only way out I knew, you were the one I always thought of first. I always thought about you, and how if you were there, you would grab me and hold me so tightly while making the stupidest jokes you could possibly think of until I was laughing so hard I couldn’t remember how to be sad.”</p>
<p>That was a lot to process. Richie never knew anyone thought of him that way. He always kind of figured he was just the idiot his friends let tag along on their adventures. He certainly didn’t let any of them choose to be his friend. In fact, he had a distinct memory of hanging around and annoying Bill in Kindergarten until Bill just accepted they were friends. Richie assumed that’s how it must’ve gone with the others as well.</p>
<p>“And you know what I honestly think?” Mike continued. “I think you secretly have the biggest heart out of all of us. Even Ben, who’s all heart. You just keep it behind so many walls. You only let it out in little bits when you just can’t do anything else but let it out. I think that’s why you were always the one to try to pretend you were fine, but you were really the saddest. Things hurt you and you would try to hide it until it was too much and you exploded. Like when you and Bill got in that fight, or after we all started breaking off and moving away.”</p>
<p>There was a distinct prickling sensation in the back of Richie’s eyes, but he refused to cry. </p>
<p>“Well, you know. It’s that whole ‘the funniest people are often the saddest’ bullshit you see all the time.” The joke was too real to be funny. Richie bit his tongue until it ached, digging his fingernails into his palms, until the stinging of his eyes lessened.</p>
<p>Mike nodded. “Eddie, though. Eddie was special. He could make you show your soft side any time. You looked out for all of us, but Eddie especially.”</p>
<p>“No, let’s not… let’s not go there right now,” Richie stuttered. “Let’s literally talk about anything in the world that isn’t Eddie right now.”</p>
<p>Little did Mike know, from the moment Richie realized Eddie was still alive, it was taking every ounce of spare energy not to sprint to New York and find that tiny bastard. He couldn’t, not yet. Mostly because Richie knew the moment he saw Eddie, he was going to hug him and he might not ever be able to let go. Not this time. And they had shit they had to do.</p>
<p>There was something in Mike’s eyes, something knowing. Mike was smart, he could probably connect the dots pretty easily. Even if he didn’t know Richie’s dirty little secret, it wouldn’t be difficult to make a guess as to what Richie’s worst nightmare could be. </p>
<p>They sat a little longer in silence, watching as the stars popped into the sky little by little, listening to the sound of the river roaring in the canal. It was a sound Richie had learned to hate, nothing like the soothing sound of the ocean waves outside Richie’s house. The canal meant death and darkness. </p>
<p>“Can I ask you something?” Mike said suddenly. “You don’t have to answer if it’s too much.”</p>
<p>Richie worried about what the question could be, but nodded anyway. Mike was telling the truth, he wouldn’t make Richie answer if it was too much.</p>
<p>“What was it like… after? You said awful things happen. How did you…”</p>
<p>“How did we deal with it?” Richie snorted humorlessly, though it felt a bit mean. “Obviously, I didn’t. Started doing a fuck ton of coke again and attempting to drink my weight in hard liquor. Everyone else fucked off to god knows where, but we keep in touch now. We didn’t forget this time. Even if I spent most nights wishing we had. Or… at least that I had. You guys… the rest of you are happy. Couldn’t deprive you guys of that. Of you finally getting to get your ass out of Derry.”</p>
<p>Richie watched as Mike’s face lightened at the mere mention of getting to leave the town, but quickly schooled itself into a stoic expression again. “I guess it’s good to know we didn’t all die. I was sort of starting to wonder if you were the only one who made it out.”</p>
<p>That, admittedly, probably would’ve been much much worse. And considering everything the others had done for him, Richie wouldn’t have stayed the sole survivor very long. For all his drinking and drugging and other various forms of what would certainly be considered self harm, Richie had never actually been suicidal. Even after Eddie’s death. Richie had considered it, but it never really felt like a real option to him. Better to let it happen naturally with a good ol’ OD or getting hit by a car crossing the street when Bill forced Richie to meet him somewhere for lunch.</p>
<p>“Soon enough, man. I’ll make sure you get out of this place soon,” Richie promised.</p>
<p>Before Mike could respond, they heard shouting, and both their heads turned quickly towards the noise. They hadn’t been paying too much attention to anyone walking past them, just courtesy glances to make sure no one was getting stalked by clowns. But at the sight of a gang of homophobic pricks gathering around who Richie realized must’ve been a young couple, Richie knew they had found who they were looking for. </p>
<p>“Alright. Let’s get this show on the road,” Richie said, clapping his hands together loudly as he stood.</p>
<p>Mike followed quickly, bravely ready to help Richie defend a couple strangers. Good ol’ Mike.</p>
<p>They managed to make it over to the cluster of kids, just as one of them, Adrian most likely, got punched so hard he fell to the ground. The other one immediately tackled the attacker to the ground.</p>
<p>It was a good move, but Richie knew from experience it would just get him pinned and useless faster with assholes like these. It was Bowers and his stupid fucking gang all over again.</p>
<p>“Hey! You assholes mind fucking off? We already called the cops, they’re on their way right now,” Richie shouted out. Would they call Richie’s bluff? He was ready for a fight if they did, but he would rather avoid that if he could.</p>
<p>“Why don’t you mind your own fucking business, old man?” Goon Number One shouted at him. It gave the other kid time to rush over to Adrian, who Richie noticed was pulling an inhaler out of his pocket and shaking it weakly. Because of course he has asthma.</p>
<p>Shaking away thoughts of Eddie, Richie moved to stand between the bullies and the couple on the ground, Mike moving with him. It was nice to have Mike. He was probably way more intimidating than Richie. And Richie knew about the secret muscles Mike hid under his ugly stuffy librarian shirts. </p>
<p>“If the pigs were coming, they would’ve gotten here already,” the one who reminded Richie most of Bowers spat. “So why don’t you move out of our way or we’ll teach you how we deal with fa-”</p>
<p>The inevitable slur was thankfully cut off by Richie swinging his fist and meeting the bully’s chin. It was a stupid decision, one Richie already knew wouldn’t end well.</p>
<p>It didn’t take long for the punch back. It was the biggest goon, stepping forward to defend his leader, and the punch knocked Richie flat on his ass just like it had Adrian. Fuck, Richie forgot how much that shit hurt.</p>
<p>Mike was pulling the asshole off of him, dodging swings and landing a few of his own. The other two managed to get up and join the fight, leaving Richie to stumble to his feet and immediately crumple again when kicked in the stomach. </p>
<p>“Shit,” Richie groaned, curling into a ball instinctively. He was able to dodge a couple more hits, going for the knees and keeping his aching arms up as best he could. But one look at the others told him this wasn’t going to end well. </p>
<p>Managing to actually get onto his feet this time, Richie quickly glanced around. There was no one around to help, no cops to shout for. There would be no outrunning the bullies, no hiding in Freese’s and outsmarting them to get away. </p>
<p>But they were on a bridge.</p>
<p>It had been in the water, hadn’t it. Whatever had happened with Adrian. Not on the bridge, but under it. It made absolutely no sense to go towards the worse danger, but Richie suddenly got the feeling that that was exactly where they needed to go. </p>
<p>“Mike!” Richie shouted as he rushed towards Adrian. Adrian was on his knees, getting hit repeatedly on the side of his head with one arm wrenched behind his back. It was surprisingly easy to push off the bully and pull Adrian to his feet. “Time to go!”</p>
<p>“What the fuck are you doing?” Adrian shouted as Richie pulled him towards the side of the bridge, towards the water. </p>
<p>Richie glanced behind them, happy to see Mike had quickly gotten with the program and that he and the other kid were following, the bullies hot on their tail. “I know it’s fucking insane. But unless you’ve got a better plan…” he said, already clambering over the rail.</p>
<p>“Richie?” Mike said somewhere behind them, but there wasn’t time.</p>
<p>He jumped, keeping his hand on Adrian’s arm until the last moment, hoping that they would all follow him before they could get hurt. Richie hit the water with a crash, and was immediately consumed by freezing cold and wet, swept in a deceptively fast current.</p>
<p>The trick was staying calm, he knew. It was easy when you didn’t have much to lose, didn’t care if you lived or died. Richie bobbed to the surface quickly, only moving enough to keep himself afloat. He heard two more splashes when he managed to turn around, and there was no one on the bridge but the bullies. Adrian must’ve jumped right after him.</p>
<p>Something touched his leg, a hand. Richie fought back the urge to scream, taking a deep breath to dive under and help pull Adrian to the surface. </p>
<p>Adrian, whose face was bright red with blood, and weakly choking on water, obviously wasn’t fit to swim by himself. Richie helped wrap his arms around him before carefully maneuvering them toward a little bank. </p>
<p>It was almost too late when he saw It.</p>
<p>“Richie, stop!”</p>
<p>It was Mike’s voice. Mike was seeing It too. Crouched in the weeds, glaring at them like they had personally offended It. And, well, they definitely had. Guess they had to find somewhere else to dock. Richie tried to ignore the gnawing, consuming fear building inside him just at a mere glimpse of It as they continued swimming farther down the river. It was difficult with Adrian’s added weight, and Richie went under the surface a few times trying to keep Adrian from choking on the water, which didn’t help the panic he was fighting off.</p>
<p>They ended up having to swim for what felt like hours before he and MIke both felt comfortable enough to leave the water. The four of them lay gasping in the sand for a long moment. Richie flinched violently at the sudden sound of an inhaler being pressed, but shrugged off Adrian’s quiet, raspy apology. Tried not to picture a different young asthmatic, lying traumatized and wet in the sand beside him.</p>
<p>They had to march their way back up to the bridge, making very sure that all the bullies were gone before emerging from the thick foliage. It was the second time Richie had had to walk around in wet clothes with a headache while keeping one eye open for a monster. That kinda sucked.</p>
<p>They said their goodbyes, Adrian and Don, apparently, thanking them while still very confused about what had just happened. Richie and Mike just shrugged it off, pretending to simply be in a tiny minority of good samaritans just helping out. </p>
<p>Richie also couldn’t help a quick warning to stay away from plumbing, sewers, the river, and to run away as fast as they could if they saw a clown. Adrian looked completely dumbfounded, but Don got quiet and simply nodded. He must’ve saw It at the riverbank too. </p>
<p>There wasn’t much time once they got back to Mike’s attic room for Richie to change, again, and call a driver. Mike had offered his truck, but Richie didn’t feel in any condition to drive. Not that that had ever really stopped him before. He managed to convince someone to drive him all the way from the library to the Bangor airport while trying to comb his hair with his fingers and figuring he would just buy a little toiletry kit at the airport. </p>
<p>Stan wouldn’t like it if he showed up a complete mess.</p>
<p>And he hadn’t brushed his teeth since he left LA in a different dimension.</p>
<p>Mike hugged him before he left, a bit too tight, filled with emotions neither of them could process let alone voice to each other. Mike would only have to make four calls this time. Soon, he wouldn’t be alone anymore. And Richie… </p>
<p>It was only the fact that he was literally on his way to save Stan’s life that kept him from just giving the driver his wallet and begging him to take him to New York to find Eddie. Eddie was alive. Richie ached to see him, to touch him, to know that this was real. But Stan needed him. And Richie would see Eddie soon anyway. </p>
<p>He could do this.</p>
<p>The drive was long and boring, but the driver was nice enough and didn’t mind turning up the volume on the classic rock station he had playing and letting Richie zone out rather than forcing mindless conversation. That was certainly a rarity this far Northeast, so Richie accepted the hidden blessing and tried to think about how to convince Stan to come back to Maine with him. </p>
<p>It was going to be tricky, and Richie wondered if he was going to have to babysit Stan the whole trip back, with constant glances at his wrists and not letting Stan go to the bathroom by himself. Richie didn’t think he could do that. Not with how he was feeling himself at the moment. He would have to convince Stan that everything would be okay and that meant telling him the truth. Or at least part of it. </p>
<p>Richie made it to the airport just in time to sprint through security, get a few weird looks at hs sad little toiletry bag that was his only carry on, and jump into the line to board at the gate.</p>
<p>And then more thinking. Probably too much thinking. (Why did Atlanta have to be so fucking far away?) Richie knew Stan wouldn’t remember him at first, would likely be very wary when Richie showed up, but would smile through small talk until he finally started to remember more and more. Unfortunately, Stan would remember the bad stuff, the scary stuff, the worst memories that never should have been happening to a thirteen year old in the first place. He wouldn’t want to come back, wouldn’t want to leave his wife, wouldn’t want to face It a second time.</p>
<p>But hey, Richie would have to climb down into that fucking place for a third time, so fuck any of Stan’s complaints.</p>
<p>Finally, the plane landed, and Richie was proud of himself for resisting the temptation of tiny airplane bottles of booze. He figured he should try to stay sober for Stan. No one wanted a drunk Trashmouth randomly showing up on their doorstep.</p>
<p>Richie made a quick pit stop to freshen up in the bathroom before hopping in a cab, and giving the address of Stan’s fancy office building that Mike had given Richie. The fucking stalker. </p>
<p>The challenging part, unsurprisingly, was getting to Stan. They let him in the building easily enough, rattling off Stan’s name and title, getting him a floor destination. But once he got to Stan’s office, his receptionist, and fuck, wasn’t Stan fancy to have his own goddamn receptionist, was reluctant to let Richie in.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, sir. You need to call and schedule an appointment to see Mr. Uris,” she said in a sugar sweet voice that did nothing to hide her annoyance and distaste of Richie. </p>
<p>He tried not to let it bother him. He knew he didn’t look anything like anyone Stan would usually have anything to do with. “Please, just tell him Richie Tozier from Derry is here to see him.”</p>
<p>The woman frowned, but eventually stood and disappeared behind the imposing door that surely hid his friend. </p>
<p>Richie sat in one of the little squishy chairs. He was so going to tease Stan for every little bit of this as soon as Stan remembered who he was. It was almost ten whole minutes of twiddling his thumbs, playing with his broken phone to look like he was busy, and dodging a few more looks from the receptionist when she returned before Stan finally appeared. </p>
<p>Stan was… well, Stan was fucking hot. Richie had only seen Facebook pictures of Stan that clearly did not do him justice. Sure, Stan was an okay looking kid, but he was no Eddie. But middle age was good to Stan. That, or Richie apparently had a thing for dorky men with boring ass jobs. </p>
<p>“Richie?” Stan asked hesitantly, his voice distant, the memories not quite yet catching. </p>
<p>“Stan the Man. Well, lookit you. You went and grew up on me.” Richie spread his arms wide to demonstrate his faux shock before gesturing up and down at Stan’s body. Richie could see the moment it clicked for Stan and couldn’t hold back his chuckle.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Trashmouth,” he said, a note of wonder in his voice before it flattened out into the trademark Stanley Uris Sarcasm. “Not all of us can retain the maturity of a thirteen year old our whole lives.”</p>
<p>“Nah, you were just born an old man. Don’t deny it.”</p>
<p>Stan just shrugged but then broke out into a wide smile. “It’s good to see you, Richie. What the hell are you doing here? I’m sorry, I… I guess I didn’t remember you at first.”</p>
<p>"Yeah, it's fine, man. None of the others remember each other either. Don't feel too guilty."</p>
<p>"What do you mean?" Stan's brow furrowed.</p>
<p>Richie smiled. A good memory he could give to Stan. Before that got fucked to shit. "The Losers. Bev, Ben, Eddie, Mike-"</p>
<p>"Bill," Stan finished for him, his eyes glazing over a bit. "Yeah, there were seven of us. <br/>Lucky number seven."</p>
<p>Richie decided to change the subject before Stan remembered why seven had to be a lucky number for them. "I need to talk to you about something important. Very important."</p>
<p>Whether Stan could tell from Richie's voice or if that Feeling had already started creeping over him, Stan hastily suggested, "Let's go talk in my office, then. Alice, hold my calls."</p>
<p>Stan's office was nice, fancy, and unsurprisingly neat. There was even a little fucking ficus in the corner by the wide windows that let in so much natural light it almost made Richie's eyes hurt. Centered nicely, probably feng shuied by some expensive designer, was a sleek, modern-looking standing desk.</p>
<p>Richie was so making fun of Stan later, jesus. </p>
<p>“Did you want something to drink?” Stan asked, waving towards a fucking mini fridge gracefully propped on top of a kitschy little table. “I can have Alice make us some coffee.”</p>
<p>Honestly, coffee didn’t sound bad. Sure, he was no longer hungover, but he couldn’t remember the last time he had had a good night’s sleep or a proper meal. And he had just travelled to a different fucking time and/or universe, so he had an understandable headache and was a little totally exhausted. But he wasn’t planning on staying in the office long enough for that. “Nah, I’m good.”</p>
<p>Stan shrugged, and sat on the little couch set off to the side against the wall, gesturing an invitation for Richie to join him. That was nice. Might’ve been a little awkward if Stan had sat behind his desk like a stern school principal about to yell at Richie for pulling a fire alarm. “So…”</p>
<p>“So…” Richie echoed, suddenly realizing he had no idea what to say. He had rehearsed this a hundred times in his head on the trip, but now he couldn’t remember anything he had planned to say. All he could think of was the fact that Stan was sitting next to him, grown up and alive. That if he leaned over and pushed up the sleeves of Stan’s pristine baby blue button down shirt, there would be no blood, no marks, no scars. That if Richie didn’t fuck this up too badly, Stan would get to keep growing up, would get to become an adorable old man with an adorable old wife and a handful of adorable little grandchildren. Richie felt a prickling behind his eyes again.</p>
<p>“Richie?”</p>
<p>No. Richie couldn’t cry in front of Stan. It would ruin everything. Deflect. “How old is that girl, anyway? She looks like a damn college student. If I didn’t know you were too stuffy and boring to have an affair, I would be concerned.”</p>
<p>“Beep beep, Richie,” Stan grumbled, brightening for a moment at remembering the expression before turning serious again. </p>
<p>“Don’t get your Calvin Klein’s in a twist. I know you wouldn’t do that to Patty.” The sound of Patty crying on the phone with Bev rang through Richie’s ears.</p>
<p>Stan rubbed his lip. “How do you know her name?”</p>
<p>Fuck. Abort. “I… stalked you on Facebook. Duh.” </p>
<p>“I don’t have a Facebook,” Stan said, squinting a bit, more in suspicion than confusion. Asshole. “Richie, why don’t you just tell me what the fuck is going on?”</p>
<p>Richie scoffed. “”Who the fuck doesn’t have a fucking Facebook in twenty-fucking-sixteen? You really are an old man, Stanny.” He paused, taking off his glasses for a second to rub at his eyes as he tried to gather his bearings. He knew this would be difficult, but fuck. “So, um… we kinda have to go back to Derry. All of us.”</p>
<p>To Richie’s surprise, Stan didn’t immediately react. “Back to Derry? Why?”</p>
<p>“There’s some stuff happening. Bad stuff. And we… we made a promise that we would go back to stop it.”</p>
<p>The room was deathly quiet. Richie could see the dark memories passing over Stan’s face. Not everything, not specifics yet, probably just that awful fucking Feeling, and vague rememberings that refused to quite come together. </p>
<p>“Bad stuff?” Stan asked reluctantly.</p>
<p>Richie sighed. “It’s back, Stan. It’s back, so we have to go back.” Richie took a chance and reached out to squeeze Stan’s knee. Stan jumped a little, but then relaxed a bit as he unconsciously leaned further into Richie’s space. “But it’s okay. Cuz there’s this other weird thing going on that I can’t really explain to you yet cuz we’re on a bit of a time crunch here and we need to go to your place soon. I promise I’ll explain all of it soon, but for now, all you need to know is that I know how to kill It.”</p>
<p>Stan seemed to have forgotten how to speak. He made a few noises, nodding a bit, but it was more out of automatic politeness than actual acquiescence or agreement. He looked ill, really, and Richie wondered if he should find some fancy little wastebasket for him.</p>
<p>Instead, Richie just leaned in so that their bodies were pressed hip to hip, arm squished under arm, as comforting as Richie could manage. Fuck, Richie had missed Stan so much. </p>
<p>“I know you’re probably freaking out a little right now, even if you don’t completely remember why yet. But, I swear, Stan. I swear I won’t let anything bad happen to you. To any of you.”</p>
<p>Richie wished he could say that his little speech had inspired a beautiful moment, inspiring Stan to bravely stand up ready to fight and win. But really, Stan was on autopilot for a while after that. Richie followed meekly as Stan quietly got up and left the office, telling Alice he needed to take a sudden vacation, to reschedule his meetings and have someone, his boss, Richie assumed, call him later to iron out the details. Alice was understandably upset, and Richie gave her an apologetic wave as he hurried to follow Stan out the door.</p>
<p>Stan hadn’t even remembered to grab his jacket as he left, but he at least had his phone and his keys. Richie wasn’t sure if he should trust Stan to drive in this state, but Stan just shrugged at him. Which Richie took to mean ‘you can’t tell me I have to go back to Derry to do something dangerous possibly ending in death and then lecture me about irresponsible driving.’ </p>
<p>If Richie thought Stan’s office was bad, his house was even worse.</p>
<p>It wasn’t fancy and overly expensive, per se. But it was a perfect, nice house in a perfect, nice neighborhood, with a perfect, nice lawn Stan definitely paid someone else to take care of. Richie was almost reluctant to go inside, scared that just setting foot in the place would somehow make it dirty and ruin it. </p>
<p>Richie immediately forgot that particular worry when Patty stepped out of the kitchen, a concerned look on her face, and his heart sank. She wasn’t supposed to be there. Richie wasn’t supposed to have to look at Patty while he convinced her husband to possibly go die while fighting a sewer monster, even if Richie was dead set on making sure Stan would make it out okay. Patty already had to find her husband dead once before. Fuck.</p>
<p>“Stan? What are you doing home so early?” she asked. “Hello there,” she smiled at Richie politely.</p>
<p>Richie waved lamely, but Stan smiled. For as bad as the Feeling must be by that point, Stan’s smile was genuine as he looked at his wife. “Patty, this is my friend Richie. Haven’t seen him in more than twenty years, if you can believe it, but he was my best friend back in the day. Richie, Patty.”</p>
<p>Ignoring the swirl of emotions that flooded through him at Stan calling him his best friend, Richie shook Patty’s outstretched hand. Hopefully, she wasn’t too put off by how clammy Richie’s hand was.</p>
<p>“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Richie. I guess I’ll… make you boys some coffee?”</p>
<p>With a soft kiss to Stan’s cheek that made Richie’s heart fucking ache, Patty went back into the kitchen.</p>
<p>Unfortunately, the moment Patty left the room, Stan’s shoulders drooped, and the empty look on his face returned. “So, now what, Rich?”</p>
<p>Richie shrugged, feeling much too empty himself. “Ideally, we would pack you a bag and get back to the airport asap so we can catch the only flight to Bangor instead of having to take one to Portland or Boston.” He paused, noticing the way Stan’s eyes flicked toward the kitchen. “But I have a feeling you might need a bit before we do that.”</p>
<p>Stan sighed. “This is just so fast, Richie. You just expect me to get up an leave, no questions. I have a wife. I have a job. Yeah, it would be nice to see everyone, if we planned out a proper reunion trip. Not to drop everything last minute and go… What exactly are we going to do?”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, Stan, but it has to be now. I know you don’t remember everything yet, and I know you don’t want to,” Richie took a deep breath, trying to figure out how to explain it to Stan with tact, and knowing there was a very real possibility Patty was eavesdropping. “We made a promise, Stan. And whether you believe me yet or not, bad things will happen if we don’t keep that promise.” He can’t help the way his eyes trail down to Stan’s wrists, or the way he tries to picture the look of horror on Patty’s beautiful face when she found Stan’s body. “Really fucking bad things, Stan.”</p>
<p>For better or worse, Stan believed him.</p>
<p>They decided Stan would talk to Patty alone, tell her there was an emergency in Derry and he would have to leave for a couple days. She would want to come with them, but Richie urged Stan not to let her. It would only work if it was just the seven of them. Richie decided to use the bathroom while they were busy.</p>
<p>Richie tried to avoid looking in the mirror as he washed his hands. He decided to splash a bit of water on his face, trying to remember what was like not to feel like ass. He was exhausted. He was nauseated. His body ached in a way that made him feel at least twenty years older. But at least everything was going according to plan so far. </p>
<p>“Okay, Tozier. Just get him on the plane and back to Derry. Then you can start the fucking ritual sacrifice-”</p>
<p>Richie trailed off the sentence when his eyes trailed over to a little box of razor blades sitting at the bottom of a neatly organized toiletry tray. Wilkinsons, the same brand Richie’s dad had used. If the sight of the crossed swords on the front of the little box didn’t make Richie want to vomit, he would immediately run out to call Stan an old fucking man. Instead, Richie hastily bent over the toilet as he dryheaved yet again. </p>
<p>As if moving on their own, Richie’s hands reached out to grab the box of blades and shove them in his pocket. Then, he grabbed the stupid, old man razor and unscrewed the top, carefully disassembling it to remove the blade from there as well. It didn’t matter, really. If Stan wanted to do something, he would find a way to do it, even without the blades. But for some reason, Richie felt a whole lot better knowing everything was safely in his pocket where Stan couldn’t reach them.</p>
<p>Oddly, it didn’t take long to get things moving after that. Richie hovered awkwardly outside the bedroom as Patty helped Stan pack a bag, shooting Richie concerned looks periodically, to which Richie could only avert his eyes. Not even his trashmouth would work under Richie’s guilt in facing Patricia Uris.</p>
<p>The plane ride was painfully quiet. They were both wired, but Stan seemed to sense Richie was truly struggling and forced him to eat both of their bags of shitty airplane pretzels and to drink some orange juice. It actually made Richie feel better, both having something in his stomach (having not eaten anything since the corn dogs at the carnival) and having Stan care about him enough to take care of him. Richie hadn’t had that in a long fucking time. Almost thirty years.</p>
<p>When they landed, Stan insisted on being the one to rent a car and drive them to Derry. Richie was obviously in no shape to do so, and it would be much easier than trying to find a ride. But Richie still felt bad and insisted on paying. It’s not like the money mattered anyway.</p>
<p>The car ride was even quieter than the plane. Stan seemed to be lost in memories, good or bad, it was difficult to say. Richie himself was already worrying about what they would find in Derry. The others should be there already, and it would probably be just in time for them all to meet somewhere for dinner. Anything but Chinese food, obviously.</p>
<p>Eddie would be there. In the flesh, just as healthy and alive as Stan. Healthier, possibly, with all the hoops Eddie jumped through to take care of himself. Richie wasn’t sure how exactly he was going to stop himself from latching onto Eddie and never letting go. Not that that had worked for him last time he tried.</p>
<p>All to soon, they drove past the large sign welcoming them to Derry. It gave Stan a full-bodied shiver, like his body knew he wasn’t really supposed to be there. </p>
<p>Richie gave Stan directions to the Inn, figuring he should get himself a room instead of mooching off of Mike more, on the chance they waited until the next day to go monster hunting. Shit wouldn’t hit the fan for another night, and hopefully if Richie could keep an eye on Bill, he wouldn’t have to worry about Pennywise murdering some poor kid just to fuck with him. At the very least, they could go into Niebolt while the sun was still up, even if it wouldn’t matter once they went down.</p>
<p>Before they got out of the car, Richie put a hand on Stan’s shoulder, just needing a moment. Stan put his hand on Richie’s, comforting him and soaking up some much needed comfort of his own.</p>
<p>“Well, here goes fucking nothing.”</p>
<p>Richie was not expecting to walk in to a room full of Losers. But there they were, clustered on the little couches in the room off to the right of the lobby. Mike was sitting with a line of sight to the front desk and announced to the others the moment he saw them. </p>
<p>The meeting of the Losers Club had already begun and Richie was not ready for it.</p>
<p>They were all smiling, even Mike, who had a vague idea of what would come next. Bev was curled up on a loveseat with Bill, looking surprisingly relaxed for someone with still darkening bruises on her arms. Ben was laughing at something Mike had said, and though most of his attention was on Beverly, his face brightened even more when he caught sight of Richie and Stan. The group was finally complete.</p>
<p>And Eddie… Eddie was right there, sitting in a fancy armchair, one hand pressed against his mouth to hide part of his smile. His eyes flickered to them, Stan first and then landing on Richie and then staying there. Eddie stared at Richie with wide eyes, like even after remembering the others he still hadn’t remembered Richie and now…</p>
<p>And now what? Did it even really matter what Eddie was thinking at that moment? </p>
<p>They all stared at him expectantly. Right, they were waiting for him to make a joke. Because that’s what Richie did. They remembered that already, awesome. But Richie’s tongue was heavy and his mind was blank. Eddie. Eddie was right fucking there, no memory of dying in Richie’s arms.</p>
<p>In the end, Bev saved him. </p>
<p>“What a bunch of handsome old men,” she said fondly, shooting Richie a soft smile. </p>
<p>Stan clapped Richie on the shoulder as he moved past him to sit down with the others. It just looked so right to see him settle in next to Ben and Mike, leaving Richie the choice of sitting by Bev’s feet or on the arm of Eddie’s chair. But the scene looked so fucking perfect, everything Richie had dreamed of since they killed the damn clown. He decided to stay hovering awkwardly in the doorway. </p>
<p>Richie no longer belonged in this group. He had seen things hopefully none of them would ever have to see. Maybe Richie had lost the ability to smile, but they hadn’t and wouldn’t. And that was worth awkwardly standing in the doorway to avoid ruining the joyous mood.</p>
<p>“So, we’re all here now. What’s the plan?” Ben asked Mike.</p>
<p>Mike clapped his hands together loudly, and Richie hoped no one saw the way his body jerked at the sudden sound. “Are you guys hungry? There’s a couple nice places we could go in town.”</p>
<p>“I passed a Chinese p-p-place on the ride here. Jade something? Looked g-good,” Bill suggested. He glanced for a moment at Beverly, as if looking for her approval. Right, that weird ass love triangle hasn’t worked itself out yet.</p>
<p>Before Richie could think of an excuse to reject Bill’s suggestion, Mike thankfully did it for him. </p>
<p>“Actually, that place has had so many health code violations. I never eat there,” he lied smoothly. Richie could kiss him. </p>
<p>Instead he snickered. “That’s putting it mildly.” Flashes of eyeballs, bats, and other grotesque horrors went through his mind. </p>
<p>Richie had said it quietly, but apparently not quietly enough. </p>
<p>“Have you been there, Rich?” Eddie asked from across the room.</p>
<p>Fuck. Richie’s mind was blank after a single fucking sentence from Eddie. How pathetic. Richie stood there for what felt like a solid minute before a soft “Richie?” from Bev prompted Richie into remembering how to function like a real human being.</p>
<p>He forced out a fake laugh, but couldnt repress the urge to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s a long story.”</p>
<p>Stan pointed at him and nodded. “Yeah, you said you were going to tell me something else and you never did. About how you know how to ki-”</p>
<p>“Later, man,” Richie insisted before Stan could finish that fucking thought. “Let’s just have dinner and catch up first.” It wasn’t a bad idea. For as difficult as it was for Richie to process having everyone he loved most in one room again, he wouldn’t complain about putting off what would come next. Richie may not belong with them, but he was a selfish asshole and would take everything he could get.</p>
<p>They decided on an Italian place downtown Mike had only been to once. It was a bit of a nuisance dividing up to get there, seeing as Mike’s truck was at the library, Bill and Bev had taken taxis, and Richie’s rental was in a different universe. Bev, Bill, and Mike went with Ben and Richie was stuck with Stan in Eddie’s car. Stan insisted Richie sit in the front since he was taller and needed more room, but it meant Richie had to press himself up against the door as subtly as he could just to be able to breathe being so close to Eddie.</p>
<p>Funnily enough, it was actually Eddie that made Richie start to calm down. </p>
<p>It just felt so normal with him. Eddie spent the entire drive ranting about the state of the roads and how Italian restaurants were statistically less likely to store their meats separately and how sick you could get from ordering the wrong thing and the health benefits of garlic versus the downsides of the smell and taste (who the fuck doesn’t like garlic?) and every ADHD-esque topic change had Richie relaxing more and more into his seat.</p>
<p>It didn’t feel quite so scary when Richie was maneuvered to sit between Eddie and Stan at a circular table. The irony of the seating wasn’t lost on him, the seat between Richie and Eddie having been left open for Stan before and now Richie taking his place. </p>
<p>Yet, when it came time to order, Richie was able to stomach some noodles and breadsticks without feeling sick. Was able to avoid the curious eyes of Mike when he declined the offer of wines and beers. Was able to fake smiles with perfect timing as the other Losers told the same catching up stories, teasing each other and laughing at each other’s dumb jokes. Occasionally, Richie would repeat his own words from before, a set script to avoid Stan’s suspicious squints and Beverly’s concerned gazes. </p>
<p>But as more time passed, and the other Losers steadily got more buzzed, Richie found himself almost… comfortable. Or at least some sense of peace he hadn’t felt in months, if not since he was a kid. </p>
<p>And then it happened. </p>
<p>“Where’d you learn how to do that, The Martha Stewart Show?” Richie halfheartedly teased after watching Eddie idly fold his napkin into a swan. He had realized it was easier to participate in individual conversations with Eddie than with the group as a whole.</p>
<p>“I learned it from your sister, asshole,” Eddie replied instantly. </p>
<p>It was just their usual banter, at least it was to Eddie. But suddenly Richie was laughing, genuinely laughing with a happy fluttering in his chest and a tightness in his belly, shoulders shaking. It wasn’t that funny, but apparently Richie hadn’t quite lost the ability to smile. Not if Eddie had anything to do with it.</p>
<p>Richie was laughing so hard he was starting to tear up. He knew the others were giving him odd looks, but at that point, he just couldn’t stop. Not until the tears began rolling down his cheeks in fat blobs and his laughter turned into choked sobs.</p>
<p>He could still laugh.</p>
<p>“Richie? Rich, fuck, what’s going on?” Eddie asked. Richie could feel Eddie’s fingertips graze across his shoulder, jerking away when the light touch made Richie flinch violently.</p>
<p>Stan and Mike, at least, had a better idea of what was going on. Stan silently passed Richie a clean napkin, keeping his hand on Richie’s arm even when he flinched a second time. </p>
<p>"I… I'm fine," Richie said, throat tight. </p>
<p>Beverly pressed her lips together, leaning as far as she could over the table in an attempt to be close to Richie. "Honey, you can talk to us. We're all here for you."</p>
<p>"Literally, for some of us," Stan joked. </p>
<p>Still slightly hysterical, Richie laughed again, though the sobs made it sound super pathetic. Richie coughed, trying to clear the tight feeling in his throat enough to speak. He also may or may not have sneakily moved his own hand over Stan’s for a moment, just to touch him, to reassure himself that everything was going to end up okay.</p>
<p>“Well, I bet you’re all wondering why Mike and I gathered you here today,” he said through gritted teeth. “Your mother and I are separating.” </p>
<p>Despite the lack of effort from Richie, the joke had its intended effect. The others chuckled, rolling their eyes, the concern melting slightly from their faces. And it gave them something else to focus on, even if Richie didn’t particularly want to talk about the damn clown either. </p>
<p>“Th-th-that is a g-good point though. Why are w-we here? I barely remember…”</p>
<p>Richie let Mike take the lead on walking the Losers through memory lane. It went similar to last time, lots of shocked and terrified reactions. Richie kept his eyes on the breadsticks, making sure they weren’t about to turn into tiny little Lovecraftian horrors.</p>
<p>“But Richie said he knows how to kill It.”</p>
<p>Richie looked up at the sound of his name from Mike.</p>
<p>“But how?” Stan asked. “You’re not exactly the research type. I would’ve expected that from Mike.”</p>
<p>Mike ducked his head a little, and Richie graciously did not mention any Native American rituals or Mike’s crazy corkboard. </p>
<p>“Well,” he said slowly, “funny story.”</p>
<p>The others looked at him expectantly. Ben was scooting closer to Beverly, readying himself to protect her from any unseen dangers brought about by Richie’s revelation. Eddie rolled his eyes and scooted closer to Richie… for some reason. Richie decided not to look too far into that one. </p>
<p>“It’s gonna sound kinda crazy, but Mike can vouch for me. Just… try to remember we are talking about a supernatural killing machine before you call me insane.”</p>
<p>“Just tell us, Richie,” Eddie said. His voice sounded annoyed, but his eyes were soft. He was listening. </p>
<p>Richie took a deep breath to calm himself. “I know how to kill It, because I’ve already done it. Like, in the future or a parallel universe or some shit. We’ve done it before, so we can do it again. And it will be even easier this time because we have-” Richie cut himself off with a glance at Stan, who was still holding his arm. “I have a plan. I know exactly what we have to do.”</p>
<p>There was a moment of silence as that sunk in.</p>
<p>“We killed It?” Stan asked quietly, his grip on Richie’s arm tightening. </p>
<p>Fuck it, Richie thought as he gripped Stan’s hand and blinked rapidly, trying to fight the burning sensation. “It didn’t go great. It was hard and… not everyone made it.”</p>
<p>“Oh god, Richie.” Beverly pressed a hand to her mouth in shock. </p>
<p>At least they seemed to believe him.</p>
<p>“Wh-who…”</p>
<p>“It doesn’t matter, Bill. Not anymore. ‘Cuz I’m going to make sure you all survive this time.”</p>
<p>He knew they heard the slight crack in his voice. It was nice of them not to comment on it. Eddie did, however, reach out to grab his knee, taking a page from Stan’s book and not moving away when Richie flinched yet a-fucking-gain. Beverly stood from her seat and moved around the table to hug Richie from behind. Ben and Bill both scooted their chairs in closer to the small huddle while Mike leaned forward with a serious but soft look on his face. </p>
<p>“So what do we need to do, Richie?” Mike asked calmly.</p>
<p>A soft press of lips in his hair from Beverly made Richie’s eyes flutter shut for a moment, helping him to breathe. There was also a slow stroking movement from Eddie’s thumb on his knee that in any other situation would be slowly driving Richie mad. </p>
<p>Richie could remember all those years spent longing for something he could never find. It had always felt like a piece of his heart was missing. This is what he had been searching for. There was no one else who could break through Richie’s walls so easily, who could love him and support him without question. No one else had ever compared, even when Richie couldn’t remember them. His family. </p>
<p>“We have to go back down there. All of us. No rituals, no chasing broken memories. Just us, and our Belief. Because now we know we can kill It.”</p>
<p>Bill and Mike seemed to be nodding along, which made sense. Beverly would go along with Bill and Ben would do anything for Bev. But Richie could feel Eddie and Stan’s hesitation.</p>
<p>“How do you even know it will work, genius?” Eddie asked, the attempt at a playful insult falling flat. </p>
<p>Richie shrugged. “I figure, I’m here for a reason. Something brought me here, to fix this. Whatever it is, it wants this to work.”</p>
<p>“Or It’s playing tricks on you,” Stan pointed out. </p>
<p>“I don’t think so,” Richie said. “It’s something… more. Something even more powerful. Not necessarily Evil, but not Good either.”</p>
<p>No one had a response to that one.</p>
<p>“So, we j-j-just… k-kill It and then, what? Go back to our lives?”</p>
<p>Richie shrugged. “I guess so. That’s what you guys did before.” The ones who survived.</p>
<p>“What about you, Richie?” Ben asked. Sweet Ben, always worrying about others. A true Mom Friend.</p>
<p>Another shrug. “Not sure. I’m sure I’ll figure something out.” It wasn’t quite a lie, but it still tasted awful on Richie’s tongue.</p>
<p>“So when are we doing this?” Mike asked. </p>
<p>“W-w-we could go right now. You said all we n-need is to be t-t-together, right Richie?” Bill suggested.</p>
<p>Eddie, however, obviously wasn’t on board. “Well that’s fucking crazy. Even if Richie has a plan, which, since when have any of Richie’s plans ever worked out well for us, I’m not going to jump headfirst into a sewer without proper preparation. Do you remember how long it took for us to clean that shit off? Literal shit. We should go get hazmat suits or something. Flashlights. Weapons. Right?”</p>
<p>Richie bit his lip. The comment about Richie’s plans never working out well stung a little bit, made all the worse considering how much was riding on this particular plan. Literally holding his friends’ lives in the palm of his hand. </p>
<p>“The longer we wait, the longer we have to talk ourselves out of it,” Beverly pointed out. </p>
<p>“Maybe that’s not a bad thing,” Stan said. “Why does it keep falling on us to clean up this mess? Why can’t someone else do this? Let’s just go home. Derry has managed to survive this long.”</p>
<p>“If you can call it surviving,” Mike muttered under his breath. Stan ignored him.</p>
<p>It wasn’t exactly something Richie had wanted to tell them about, but it was probably the best way of convincing most of them, and at least Beverly could back him up. “So… I really hate to say this, but going home isn’t actually an option.”</p>
<p>“What?” Eddie cried, flustered enough to remove his hand from Richie’s knee. And oh the icy chill that replaced Eddie’s warmth was bitter.</p>
<p>Richie cleared his throat awkwardly, meeting Beverly’s eyes. “There’s um… I guess part of the whole fucked up magic thing that make us the fucking Chosen Ones or whatever is that.... If we leave now, we… end up dead.”</p>
<p>“Oh,” Bev gasped. “Oh god, Richie. Please tell me… my nightmares?”</p>
<p>A short nod from Richie had her hiding her face in her hands in a way that broke Richie’s heart. “I’m not going to tell you the details, babe. But it’s why we have to do this. Leaving doesn’t work. Believe me, I fucking tried.” Casually not mentioning that Stan was the reason Richie had turned back. </p>
<p>“That’s horrible, Richie. I’m sorry,” Ben said.</p>
<p>Richie shook his head. “Maybe it’s better to just get this thing done. I mean, as much as I love catching up with you guys again, at least if we do it now we’ll have the element of surprise on our hands. And then it will all be done and you can all go back home.” He paused for a moment. “Well, maybe not all of you. Try out freedom for a bit.”</p>
<p>There was a smile from Mike that Richie appreciated, but Bev’s anxious glance broke his heart all over again. There was also a sharp inhale from Eddie that confirmed a few too many of Richie’s suspicions about his marriage.</p>
<p>“Okay, Rich. We’re with you,” Mike said. </p>
<p>The others nodded. And though it was obvious Stan and Eddie were both still pretty unhappy and a bit hesitant, they still stood with everyone else when the bill was paid and they decided to head out.</p>
<p>…</p>
<p>It was just as awful and disgusting and terrifying as before. Working their way through that awful fucking house, after taking a moment for Richie to breathe through the beginnings of a panic attack, then down the well and through the greywater that had Eddie gagging and scrambling for the inhaler he never picked up from the pharmacy. Then deeper and deeper in, until they were standing in the fucking cistern. </p>
<p>They stood together above the hatch, waiting for someone to signal what to do next. They were <br/>probably waiting for Richie, since he was the one to lead them down here in the first place. But fuck, Richie wished he could tell them to look at Mike, the one whose idea this should have been, or Bill, their fearless leader. </p>
<p>But still, Richie allowed himself to stop and take a moment. He looked at them all, the way they had instinctively formed a circle together. God, he loved them all so much.</p>
<p>“I really love you guys,” Richie couldn’t help but say. He saw the confusion on their faces. It was too sincere coming from him. But he wouldn’t take it back for anything. Even when he teared up a little and couldn’t wipe his eyes quickly enough to keep the others from seeing.</p>
<p>“We love you too, Rich,” Bill assured him.</p>
<p>Eddie unconsciously stepped closer to Richie, and Richie bit his lip to hold back a smile. “Always will, Trashmouth.”</p>
<p>It didn’t quite feel like enough, though. Not with what they were about to do. What Richie was about to do. Across the small circle, Beverly met his eyes. For a moment, Richie thought she might be reading his mind, that she had figured out his plan and would try to stop him. </p>
<p>But then, Richie realized as he saw the others looking at him as well, that it was something different. Bev was looking at him like she knew Richie needed something more. Some sort of anchor to keep him holding on. </p>
<p>Wordlessly, they both stepped forward until they were facing each other, and Bev could put her hands on Richie’s arms. Her thumbs rubbed his arms comfortingly as their lips met in the softest kiss Richie had ever had in his life. It was soft as a butterfly’s wing and yet warm and full of life. Before Richie could move away, Bev let go of Richie’s arms to grab the back of his neck to pull him down, raising up on her tiptoes to smack a loud second kiss onto Richie’s forehead.</p>
<p>“We love you, Richie,” she said with with a smile that was full of love but a bit sad all the same.</p>
<p>She stepped away and Richie was almost too nervous to meet the eyes of the others, to see how they would react to such a bizarre impromptu kiss. </p>
<p>“Wow, I’m almost jealous,” Ben joked. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to kiss a famous person.”</p>
<p>It took a moment for Richie to realize Ben meant jealous of Beverly, not of Richie. What a trip. “Get over here, Haystack. I’ll lay one on ya so good it’ll ruin you for all other men.”</p>
<p>Richie was mostly joking, so he wasn’t sure which of them was more surprised when Ben actually stepped forward after only the slightest nudge from Beverly. </p>
<p>“Oh,” Richie said softly before Ben smiled and kissed him.</p>
<p>It probably should’ve been more shocking than it was when it actually happened. Really, it wasn’t like the seven of them hadn’t been fairly affectionate with each other as teenagers. There was definitely cuddling happening tucked away in Ben’s perfectly engineered blanket forts, usually spurred on by Bev and Richie whining about wanting to puppy pile during sleepovers as ‘bonding’. Maybe they didn’t have group make out sessions, but a kiss from his good ol’ buddy Ben was much more comforting than it was weird. </p>
<p>Mike came to him next. Poor Mike, who had been stuck alone in Derry all these years with nothing but his memories the rest of them had lost. He probably knew better than anyone how important dumb little moments like these were. </p>
<p>“We’ll always be here for you, Rich,” Mike said before he pressed his slips to Richie’s. His lips were chapped. It was a good kiss. </p>
<p>“Thanks, Mike,” he managed to say, his voice gravelly and full of emotion at this point.</p>
<p>Richie honestly expected Stan to make a joke, to refuse to kiss Richie in the way that seemed to be becoming a pattern. But when it was his turn, Stan came forward without hesitation. He even went so far as to reach down and squeeze Richie’s hand.</p>
<p>“Do you remember coming to my Bar Mitzvah?” he asked quietly enough Richie wasn’t sure if the others could hear. “I knew my dad was so pissed at me. I had never done anything like that before, I wondered what he was going to do. I wasn’t scared, but I didn’t want to deal with it yet. So I walked out of the synagogue and straight to your house, because I knew you always kept your window unlocked like a fucking idiot, and I waited for you in your room. And when you walked in, you didn’t even question it. You just grabbed some comics and sat on your bed next to me.”</p>
<p>Stan paused for a moment, as if trying to figure out exactly what words to say next. </p>
<p>“You’ve always been there for me, Richie. Thank you.”</p>
<p>“Goddammit, Stan,” Richie complained, not finding a subtle way to scrub away the tears rolling down his cheeks. “Don’t be so fucking sappy.”</p>
<p>And then Stan kissed him, sure and steady. Stanley Uris through and through.</p>
<p>Bill didn’t even give him a chance to say anything, just swooped in to kiss Richie the moment Stan moved far enough away. It was soft but determined, and it made Richie think of those days down in the barrens where Bill could stare at the sky for hours daydreaming peacefully. </p>
<p>Something about Bill had always been special. He had been Richie’s first crush for sure, even if Richie only knew that now and hadn’t even known what a crush was that early on. All Richie knew was that he wanted as much of Bill’s attention as he could get, so he bugged Bill until they became friends. He had loved Bill’s stutter, even as his hyperactive brain rebelled against the pause. It meant that anything Bill took the time to say was important. And even at that tender age, Richie hadn’t missed how ironically complementary Bill’s stutter was to his own mouth that spewed trash like a broken fire hydrant.</p>
<p>Richie couldn’t be embarrassed about such a crush, though. He was almost completely sure Bill was all the Losers’ first crush, no matter how straight they were, except maybe for Ben and his ‘January Embers’. Bill was their leader, of course they were all half in love with him.</p>
<p>And just like Bill standing outside of the Neibolt house and giving his grand motivational speech to them as children, Bill’s kiss now sent a surge of strength and hope through Richie. Though that strength immediately flagged when he realized there was only one Loser who hadn’t kissed him yet.</p>
<p>Slowly, he turned around to face Eddie, who was staring at Richie so intensely, Richie had to fight not to take a step back from it. But it didn’t matter, because Eddie was already marching up to Richie, emboldened by the others. Suddenly, Richie was thirteen again, looking up at Eddie as he huffed and puffed out some rant about infections and how Richie was going to get some deadly disease from sitting on a fallen tree covered in moss and mushrooms, knowing he needed to stop staring at Eddie like an idiot, but still not being able to look away, hoping like hell Eddie would hurry up and sit down next to him so that their bare knees could touch.</p>
<p>“Well? Are you going to kiss me, Eds, or just stand their staring? I mean, I know it’s probably pretty intimidating, having to be a better kisser than your mom just to impress me-”</p>
<p>Richie was cut off by Eddie’s lips crashing against his. There was a furious heat, radiating from every point they touched, from their lips, from Eddie’s fingers digging into Richie’s shoulders, from Richie’s hand on Eddie’s perfectly unmarred cheek. </p>
<p>It was perfect. It was everything Richie had every dreamed of. Fireworks and explosions and Richie honestly thought his foot was about to pop up Princess Diaries style. So, Richie forced himself to pull away.</p>
<p>A thrill went through him when Eddies lips chased his, just for a moment, before he straightened back up and scowled. It was perfect and amazing and the best kiss Richie had ever had. But that wasn’t what this was about. It was about all of them, the group. </p>
<p>They loved Richie.</p>
<p>Seeming to realize this, Eddie’s scowl softened. “Is that enough to get it through your thick skull that we love you?” he said softly, pushing at Richie’s shoulder in a playful way as he stepped back. Richie stepped back too, and they were circled again. United. They were always strongest when they were together. </p>
<p>It was with that strength that Richie was able to pull away from the circle and lead them down the fucking hatch, arms shaking with effort as he lowered himself down as carefully as he could.</p>
<p>They found the cavern entrance easily, shimmying through the stupidly small opening that lead into the creepy, alien space. The others were panting harshly from the journey, even Ben with his great workout routine was winded. But Richie had to double over for a moment. He refused to throw up. Refused. </p>
<p>Richie was a bit surprised when the others didn’t stop him from stepping up onto the crater. They must’ve actually had some faith in him, the Trashmouth of all people. Eddie did take a few steps forward as if to follow him, but stopped when Richie held up his hand. </p>
<p>Trust. It was a funny thing. He almost felt bad about what he would have to do next. Almost. But Richie could hear the echoes of his own voice in the sewer, screaming, pleading to anyone or anything listening to let him die in Eddie and Stan’s places. He could see the smiling faces of the Losers joined together again, ready to finally enjoy their lives, or what they had left of them.</p>
<p>He wished he could’ve done this alone, wished they wouldn't have to see what would come next. Richie thought about each of them in turn as he carefully pulled out the razor blade he had taken from Stan’s bathroom, making sure the others wouldn’t see the movement just yet. </p>
<p>They had to be with him, though. It wouldn’t work if Richie had come alone. It was their strength together, even more powerful now with Stan with them, that killed It. Even if Richie was willing to do all the dirty work himself, it was the love and support of the family who stood behind him that would make it work. And maybe some magic space turtle mojo as well.</p>
<p>It was here, now. Richie knew the others felt it too, with a stifled gasp from Bev, and a small whimper from Stan that Richie wished he could tease Stan about later. There was a scrabbling sound from the other side of the cavern, like the legs of a giant spider. A garish, evil clown laugh echoed through the space. Richie barely registered any of it.</p>
<p>“Rich? What’s happening, man?” Bill called. Richie ignored him.</p>
<p>They all screamed when Pennywise’s face appeared around one of the giant rocks. Richie could of course pick out Eddie’s scream through them all. He remembered holding Eddie’s face as thirteen year olds, hearing Eddie’s screams and not knowing what else to do but hold him, comfort him, as the clown crept closer and closer to where they crouched in that dirty, godforsaken house.</p>
<p>Richie had had nightmares about that day for so long, so terrified that Eddie would die, he never expected Eddie’s death to be so quiet. No screams, barely any words. Just soft touches and a heartbreaking moment of understanding passing between them. Richie had been the one to break the silence, to scream until it felt like there was nothing left of him.</p>
<p>The blade cut into Richie’s fingers before he realized he was holding it too tightly. He quickly loosened his grip, readjusting it and holding it nonchalantly to his wrist. Richie had to be fast, to get this done before the fucking clown had a chance to turn on the others and ruin Richie’s second chance.</p>
<p>The spider-clown roared loudly, shaking the entire cavern, as Richie dug the blade into his wrist and pulled down. It was difficult, and more painful than Richie had really expected, but he barely allowed himself to wince. </p>
<p>Honestly, this was how it should be. Sure, the others would mourn him, but out of the seven of them, if someone had to die, it should be Richie. The others had lives, possibilities. And though Richie was absolutely sure that any of them would die for the rest of them, Eddie and Stan had even gone so far as to prove that point, Richie was happy to do it. If it meant a moment’s peace. If it meant knowing Eddie would be alive.</p>
<p>Richie managed to get the other wrist done before the others seemed to realize something was wrong. He could hear them shouting his name, running towards him. He could feel the blood gushing down his wrists and over his fingers onto the ground. He could feel the hot, putrid breath of the asshole alien demon who was forcing him to do this in the first place as he roared again with his face morphed into something that was almost all teeth.</p>
<p>Richie ignored it all. Because he knew what was coming next. It couldn’t hurt him anymore. Not the way It wanted to.</p>
<p>Two things happened at once. One, there was suddenly a hand wrapped around Richie’s wrist, right over the fresh cuts. Somehow, instinctively, Richie knew it was Eddie’s hand. Two, a big, stupid, giant spider-clown alien demon claw stabbed through his chest, just soon enough to avoid hitting any of the others rushing over to Richie.</p>
<p>It was a glorious feeling. Not the spider claw ripping its way into and back out of Richie’s body, but the feeling of the people he loved most in the world rushing to him, holding him and touching him, screaming in terror but hoping to assure themselves that Richie was okay. It was glorious because Eddie was holding one of Richie’s wrists, clamping down hard as if trying to stop the flow of blood, while Stan was doing the same to the other. It was glorious because Ben and Bev were pressed side by side as they pressed close to Richie, glorious because Bill and Mike were there with them. </p>
<p>For a few moments, the others seemed to completely forget about the clown. For the most part, at least, because Bill and Mike seemed to be keeping an eye on It, confused as to why It wasn’t coming any closer. Their attention was on Richie. And really, wasn’t that all Richie had ever really wanted.</p>
<p>But something else that felt truly glorious, something Richie oddly hadn’t even considered being a perk, was the look of surprise and horror on Pennywise’s stupid dumb bitch face as twin cuts appeared on Its stupid clown arms, and a hole ripped through his chest. One of the ugly orange poms dangled ridiculously from the wound, leaking black blood. </p>
<p>It was shrinking again, just as It had last time. </p>
<p>“You’re nothing!” Richie shouted, though he had to pause to vomit up a bit of blood. He tried his best not to get any on Eddie or Stan, not wanting to get them dirty. “Not a clown, or a demon, or anything that scares us. You. Are. Nothing.”</p>
<p>The last word was spat from Richie’s mouth so vehemently, he felt a few of his friends jump. And, more importantly, it was enough to make It shriek, starting to move away, stumbling and clawing as It shrank smaller and smaller.</p>
<p>It was disgusting, grotesque. But at least Richie wouldn’t have to rip Its arm off this time. They wouldn’t have to pull out Its still beating heart and crush it in their hands. </p>
<p>Still, Richie struggled closer, chasing It to where It cowered against a rock. Eddie and Stan kept pressure on his wrists but helped pull him forward, the rest following and keeping their hands on Richie as well. He couldn’t turn to look at them, not yet. Not until it was over.</p>
<p>“Nothing. I could’ve killed you in that basement. You’re weak. Nothing,” Eddie said from Richie’s side, voice steadier than Richie had heard it in a very long time. He felt a dizzying surge of affection for the man wash over him. Or maybe that was just the severe blood loss.</p>
<p>“Nothing,” Stan repeated, holding Richie’s wrist tighter.</p>
<p>And just like last time, the clown faded into Nothing, becoming one with the dark cavern with Its final breath. </p>
<p>“Richie.” And then Eddie was in his field of vision, becoming everything Richie could see. Which wasn’t saying much, because Richie’s vision was going black around the edges. There was a ringing in his head and he couldn’t breathe. It was similar to just passing out. It wasn’t comfortable, but there were worse ways to die. Especially like this, surrounded by his family, with the people he was dying to protect clutching tightly to him, full of life. </p>
<p>Eddie’s hand was on his cheek, bringing his attention forward. There was a downside. He could barely feel the touch he had been craving since he was a teenager, could barely see the way Eddie looked like him like his heart was breaking, like Richie was the most precious thing in the world and was being taken away from him.</p>
<p>“Eds,” he could barely form words. Would Richie’s death be quiet as well? Not very fitting for a Trashmouth. He should say something. Something to make them smile. He wondered if they would scream. If Eddie would scream the way Richie did as the house collapsed, trapping Eddie’s broken body beneath it forever. But not forever. </p>
<p>Eddie was already crying, though, tears dripping off his chin and onto Richie’s body. He could hear Bev crying as well. Bill probably would shed a single man tear, and the rest would stay as stoic as they could. The way they had when Eddie died, the way they were when they called Patty and heard about Stan. </p>
<p>Absently, Richie wondered if Ben and Bev would still end up making out in the quarry water while Eddie mourned Richie. Assholes. </p>
<p>No words came, however. The last thing he felt was Eddie pulling him close to wrap his arms around him, tears leaking down Richie’s neck.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>…</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There was only darkness. A deep, dark darkness that seemed to swallow him. But it wasn’t empty, it was full. Full of what, Richie had no idea. But it was nothing like he would’ve expected death to be like. </p>
<p>It was dark, and painful, but not cold. In fact, other than pain, there was really no feeling at all. Sort of like floating in water, but different. </p>
<p>There was a noise somewhere in the distance, but Richie realized it was getting closer and closer. Someone speaking, he thought, but no way to tell anything more with as far away as the voice was. But the louder the voice--multiple voices, maybe--got, the more pain Richie felt. Pain soaking into every nerve of Richie’s body. Every joint, every finger and toe was on fire. </p>
<p>Death fucking sucked.</p>
<p>It only got worse and worse until Richie realized he recognized the voices. It was Them. His family. Eddie’s voice and Bev’s and Stan’s and Mike and Bill and Ben’s all blurring in and out, the words not making sense. But knowing it was them, knowing they were there with him in some way… it helped. The pain was lessening now.</p>
<p>He could feel them. Not in a physical way, but like parts of them were there with him. The imprints they had left on Richie’s soul or some bullshit like that. It was like arms wrapping around him to keep him safe, lips pressed against his to prove they really did love him.</p>
<p>They did. They loved him, just as much as Richie loved them. It made him want to cry, both from the loss and the joy. It was an odd feeling when there was no real sensation, no tears, no screaming, no pushing it away or building walls to hide. The overwhelming feeling grew, feeding into every piece of him, just like the pain had. Only this feeling was consuming in a way pain could never touch.</p>
<p>It was so consuming, in fact, that Richie wasn’t even able to notice the change in the darkness. It shifted so subtly yet all at once. It was no longer the living darkness he had been in. Now, it was like Richie was sleeping. Was he asleep? Was this a dream?</p>
<p>All at once he could feel everything again. He was breathing and his heart was beating and he was real. </p>
<p>“Richie? Can you hear me? C’mon, Rich. Please fucking tell me you’re awake.”</p>
<p>It was Eddie’s voice. And somewhere nearby he could hear Beverly quietly gasping for breath, like she had been crying and was trying to stop. There was a murmur or two from Stan on his other side, too low and far away to hear. But really all Richie could focus on was the sensation of Eddie holding him, touching his face. </p>
<p>Richie managed to open his eyes, painfully but surely. He was rewarded with a beautiful smile on Eddie’s tear-stained face. They were all there, dirty and scared but happy to see him. </p>
<p>Then Richie saw the cavern. </p>
<p>It was coming down, just like it had the first time. It had been coming down too quickly to figure out how to take Eddie with them. And now, if they didn’t get their asses out quick, they would never leave.</p>
<p>The only problem was, Richie had just fucking died. And he felt like it.</p>
<p>“Holy fuck,” Richie managed to choke out, his voice scratchy and barely audible over the roaring of the wind and crumbling rocks. His arm felt so heavy as he reached out to touch Eddie. To wrap his fingers around Eddie’s wrist and feel his warmth and know that this was really happening.</p>
<p>“You guys have to go,” Richie said, flexing his fingers. Making sure Eddie would hear him. “This place is about to be flattened, you have to get out.”</p>
<p>“You’re coming with us, Richie,” Eddie said. He readjusted Richie’s grip so that they were holding hands, holding fucking hands, as he carefully maneuvered to help Richie sit up. He could feel Stan helping.</p>
<p>Richie gasped in expectation of pain, but was surprised to only feel the heavy ache of sore muscles. “I… I can’t. Eds, I’m…” </p>
<p>“Richie, shut the fuck up.” And before Richie could be confused, Eddie was touching Richie’s chest. Hard. Richie tried to flinch away but wasn’t able to move far against Eddie and Stan’s arms. But it didn’t matter. It didn’t hurt.</p>
<p>His arms and chest were covered in blood. Richie’s blood pooled in the creases of his jacket and his lap, his hands were drenched. But there were no wounds. No gaping hole in his chest, no deep slices in his wrists. </p>
<p>“G-guys, we have to go,” Bill warned them, eyes on the debris caught in the supernatural whirlwind forming at the top of the cavern.</p>
<p>And before Richie could protest more, Ben was climbing over and helping the others lift Richie to his feet. </p>
<p>It was a struggle enough to get out of the cavern. They narrowly avoided being flattened by a giant chunk of rock on their way, but managed to squeeze through the narrow gap into the tunnel. They didn’t let Richie stop for breath, just pushing and pulling him along like a rag doll. It worked, at least. Until they made it to the hatch.</p>
<p>Richie was leaning heavily into Ben, basically being carried. His legs and arms wouldn’t move properly, his head was spinning. His chest still hurt, like he had gone too long without breathing, like he had been skewered by a giant spider leg, like he was a forty something out of shape old man being forced to run through a fucking cave. There was no way he was making it all the way up. And there was no way even Ben would be able to lug Richie’s ass up either.</p>
<p>“I can’t. I can’t,” Richie gasped, still painfully out of breath. Bill was already leading the way, carefully and quickly climbing with his arms and legs spread, lots of grunting and groaning accompanying the movements. “I can’t move. I can’t do this. You have to leave.”</p>
<p>“Stop being so melodramatic,” Stan huffed, even though Richie could hear the quavering of his voice. “We aren’t leaving without you.”</p>
<p>Richie shook his head. “I can’t fucking climb that.” He could feel their eyes on him, all of them. He couldn’t meet their eyes. He hoped Bev wasn’t crying. </p>
<p>“Well, you’re gonna fucking have to,” Eddie said. There was suddenly five feet and nine inches of hypochondriac right in front of him, pushing them almost chest to chest, and cradling Richie’s face in his hands so softly compared to the harshness in his voice. “You’re going to climb and we are all going to get out of this fucking house alive.”</p>
<p>The others moved closer, everyone except Bill and Mike, who had started the climb after Bill, but Richie’s focus was entirely on Eddie.</p>
<p>“I can’t lose you Richie. I watched you die and I thought I was going to die too. I can’t live in a world without you, Rich. So, you better get your ass up there before I kill you myself.”</p>
<p>And before Richie could respond to that, Eddie pulled Richie even closer and pressed their lips together.</p>
<p>It wasn’t like the last kiss. That had been all of them, pouring their love out for Richie, protecting him. This was Eddie, and Eddie alone. It was intoxicating. It was everything. </p>
<p>It felt like a lifetime passed during the kiss. A missing thirty three years they were robbed of. A thousand universes where they loved and lost and lived and died. It was more than a confession, it was a promise. </p>
<p>“Uh, guys, I hate to interrupt…” Ben’s voice rumbled behind Richie.</p>
<p> Eddie pulled away, glancing for a moment at Ben where he still held Richie, though supporting less of his weight now that Eddie was holding him too. Richie realized Bev was already halfway up and Stan was getting ready to start climbing behind her.</p>
<p>“Yeah. Yeah, okay,” Richie agreed, not quite able to take his eyes off of Eddie. </p>
<p>But it was enough to get him moving, stumbling painfully behind Eddie, but taking a deep breath and climbing and climbing and climbing. It sucked. And he was definitely crying by the time Stan and Mike helped pull him over the edge. But he did make it.</p>
<p>They all made it, thankfully. Again, they tripped and fell out of the house and onto Neibolt street, turning around just in time to watch the house cave in and demolish itself. It was visceral, but this time Richie wasn’t screaming out for Eddie, the others weren’t holding him back, keeping Richie from being buried under the house right alongside Eddie. Tentatively, he reached out to take Eddie’s hand, to reassure himself he was still there. Eddie squeezed his hand.</p>
<p>They had all made it out alive.</p>
<p>…</p>
<p>Richie slept a lot after that. They all did, of course, though not nearly as much as they had that first time around. But apparently coming back from the dead took a lot of energy, and Richie was barely able to stay awake long enough for them to get him back to Mike’s apartment.</p>
<p>It was kind of nice not even dealing with the Inn. Mike had just enough spare pillows and blankets for them to create a nice little nest and more or less just pile on top of each other like cats. If Richie hadn’t been thoroughly exhausted, he might have worried that it was just a dream. Maybe it was heaven.</p>
<p>He slept for almost two days straight.</p>
<p>When he woke up there was always someone close by with water or a bit of food. There were a few times he woke up briefly to the feeling of someone brushing fingers through his hair or laying a hand on his leg. And when he finally woke up enough to stay awake, they were all still there with him.</p>
<p>“So, seriously, what the fuck, Richie?” was the first thing Bev said once it was clear he was really awake this time.</p>
<p>Something that rolled off the tongue so easily for a teenager just seemed so wrong coming from the almost prim and proper woman she had become. It made Richie smile.</p>
<p>“Maybe a little warning next time?” Bill teased.</p>
<p>Richie just shrugged. “Would do it again in a heartbeat,” he admitted. He reached over Ben’s legs to steal the bag of chips someone had left sitting on the coffee table.</p>
<p>“No.” Eddie, who hadn’t left Richie’s side since he died, moved away. “Never again.”</p>
<p>“Agreed,” Mike said. “There’s been enough of that.”</p>
<p>Richie laughed. “Too fucking much of it.” He took a moment to look at Eddie now sitting across from him, and at Stan sitting primly in the armchair on the other side of the room. “Fine, if you guys insist. I promise I’ll never kill myself again.”</p>
<p>“Beep beep, Richie,” Eddie said, but now he was smiling. </p>
<p>There was quiet for a moment, but Richie quickly remedied that by shoving too many chips in his mouth and crunching them as loudly as possible.</p>
<p>“So what exactly happened, Rich?” Mike asked. “Do you know?”</p>
<p>Richie thought for a moment, his throat aching as he swallowed the chips. Maybe he should’ve started with soup or something. “I think I kinda get what happened now. I guess I might’ve accidentally made a deal with… something… while I was drunk. I don’t think I can get into that whole mess just yet. But whatever it was let me trade my life for… for other people’s. I thought that was going to be the end of it. But you fuckers just have to make things complicated, don’t you?”</p>
<p>“What do you mean?” Ben asked.</p>
<p>“Bev, why did you kiss me?” </p>
<p>Bev looked surprised for a moment at the random question, but smiled softly as she must have connected the dots. “It just felt like the thing to do. I wanted to let you know how much we love you.”</p>
<p>“You guys pulled some fucking Harry Potter shit on me. Shielded me with your love or some shit like that. One second I was in this weird darkness and the next I was alive and the giant hole in my chest was gone.”</p>
<p>“Weird darkness?” Mike asked. His supernatural researcher senses must’ve been tingling.</p>
<p>“It was like… this super dark darkness,” Richie tried to describe it. “But like it wasn’t empty like how the dark usually is. Like it was living. It was so fucking weird.”</p>
<p>“We saw it too. When you died,” Bill said. He leaned forward like he was interested. Fuck his scary story writer senses tingling too.</p>
<p>Stan nodded. “It kinda appeared after you died. And then it was gone and you were...healed.”</p>
<p>“I can’t describe it,” Eddie said. “I could feel it where it touched me. It was so intense. Like the opposite of the Deadlights, you know?”</p>
<p>“The Alivedarks,” Richie threw out.</p>
<p>“You’re the worst, Rich.”</p>
<p>“He’s got a point.”</p>
<p>“Thank you, Ben.”</p>
<p>Really, the only thing left was to get the fuck out of Derry. No one wanted to stay, and now that Richie was awake, there was no reason to. After a quick detour for Richie to buy a cheap little replacement phone to tide him over until he could get a new one, they exchanged numbers and made a group chat. No matter what happened, they would talk every day.</p>
<p>Surprisingly, there were no other issues. There wasn’t a second Richie from this universe running around wondering why there were random charges on his credit cards in Maine. The house was still there, his money was still there, and Richie was able to negotiate an excuse with his manager about his missed shows. Now it was all over the news that Richie Tozier was once again in rehab after an overdose. Close enough to the truth, Richie didn’t even care about the possible blow to his career. If nothing else, it could be an excuse to start over. </p>
<p>Mike made plans to stay with Stan for a bit while he got his affairs in order and planned for his trip around the country. Bev assured them she would stay with her friend Kay until she found her own place, but smiled when she mentioned to Ben that they could meet up whenever they wanted. Bill was already figuring out ways to shower Audra in love and apologies since he was a bit of an asshole for just running out on her with little explanation.</p>
<p>It wasn’t until they were about to leave that Richie realized Eddie hadn’t told them what he planned to do. He had just kind of assumed Eddie would just go home to his wife and let his life go back to normal. But as they were all standing around saying goodbye, he noticed Eddie talking to Beverly. They had moved away from the group, too far to hear. Richie probably wouldn’t have cared much if not for Eddie sliding the ring off of his finger and slipping it into his pocket. The two of them hugged tightly, pulling away to help wipe tears off each others cheeks. </p>
<p>The worst part was how far away everyone lived from each other. Even talking everyday couldn’t make up for the way Richie’s heart ached when he and Bill squished their faces against each other to Facetime Ben and Bev and remembering they were on the other side of the country. He didn’t complain though, because Stan and Eddie made excellent additions to the group chat, now much louder and livelier than the past chat with missing voices. And they both called Richie at least once a week. Though Richie would sometimes Facetime them at odd hours for random things like telling them about a dog he saw outside the coffee shop or asking which tie to wear with the blue and purple striped shirt he found at the store. He just liked to see their faces sometimes.</p>
<p>Months passed and Richie was doing fine. He wasn’t drinking as much. He left the house at least once a day. Sometimes he even just went to the park to walk around, which he had definitely never done before. He was talking to some writers about a new show, something different from his old stuff. He made sure to eat more than once a day, and to make sure at least one of those meals wasn’t microwaveable or takeout. </p>
<p>Even more time passed and the Losers were already planning when they could meet up all together. There had already been a few visits, especially from Mike as he started making his way around the states. But they hadn’t been all together yet. </p>
<p>After so much time, it shocked Richie when he got the call from Eddie.</p>
<p>“I got a divorce.”</p>
<p>Richie pulled the phone away from his face to check the time. “Dude, is it 3 in the morning for you?”</p>
<p>“Yes it is. And I can’t sleep. I got a divorce.”</p>
<p>Oh.</p>
<p>“You… you what? You’re divorced?”</p>
<p>“I’m divorced. I moved out. I’m in a stupidly expensive fucking apartment in Manhattan by myself, and divorced. And it’s three a.m.”</p>
<p>“Well fuck.”</p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p>“It just now happened?”</p>
<p>Eddie sighed. “It was the first thing I did when I got home. It just… took awhile.”</p>
<p>“And you didn’t tell anyone?”</p>
<p>“Not until it was final. I got the notice today and I… I think I’ve just been catatonic since then.”</p>
<p>Richie laughed. “Catatonic, huh?”</p>
<p>“Fuck you. I just got divorced, I’m allowed to be shocked.”</p>
<p>“I should come see you. See the new apartment. We can celebrate.” The suggestion seemed to fly out of Richie’s mouth without his permission. </p>
<p>There was a bit of silence, long enough that Richie’s stomach turned hot with anxiety, but Eddie finally answered. “Honestly, I would love that. I’m… I’m not as sad about it as I thought I would be. But it’s still… this apartment is kinda big…and quiet.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I get that.”</p>
<p>“Maybe you could stay for awhile? Like I said, I have the space. I’ll even cook for you and everything.”</p>
<p>“Be careful,” Richie warned. “Treat me too well and I might never leave.”</p>
<p>There was a laugh on the other end that made Richie’s heart jump up into his throat the way it did when he was a teenager. “There are worse things that could happen.”</p>
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